Jonathan and Juliet made their way inside the townhouse, silent, unspeaking. Tension thrummed through his body. He glared at her from the corner of his eye.
She’d rejected him. He had offered her protection. As his mistress, she’d want for nothing…and she’d replied with a curt no.
No.
She’d said bloody no.
If someone had told him a fortnight ago that he, Jonathan, Earl of Sinclair, unrepentant rogue, and Sin to all Society would be sulking like a petulant child all because a woman had rejected him, he’d have had a bloody good laugh in their face. If that same someone had told him a spirited governess would reject his offer, well, he probably would have—
“Jonathan,” his mother cried. She all but sprinted toward the foyer, her skirts swirled wildly about her feet. “I must speak to you at once.” She skidded to an ungraceful halt as her gaze caught Juliet.
“Not now,” he said curtly.
Juliet bowed her head like she was a damned servant and hurried above stairs.
His mother’s gaze, steeped in loathing and outrage, took in Juliet’s fast-retreating form. “Jonathan, there is a matter of urgency demanding your attention.”
He cursed roundly. Her eyes went wide. “Whatever it is, it can wait,” he bit out. He needed a stiff whiskey, two or three of them, and a trip to his clubs. He did not need to attend business, and more, he did not need to be under the same roof with Juliet Marshville this afternoon.
“It is a matter of urgency, Jonathan!” As if to punctuate his mother’s dramatic exclamation, Poppy appeared above stairs, tear streaks upon her face, lower lip quivering. All his pent-up frustration and hurt shifted at the sight of his sister.
Mother and Poppy shared a look, and they both promptly burst into tears.
“Oh, it is hor-, Sin, utterly aw-awful.” Her voice broke. “M-Miss Marsh implored u-us to not use the word horrid any longer, and so I shan’t for her. Even if it is h-horrid,” she began to weep, and then took running down the hall.
What in hell? Two or three drinks forgotten, Jonathan spun to face his mother. “What—?”
“Not here,” she said on a tremulous whisper and dashed a hand across her tear-stained cheeks.
Jonathan redirected his course and made for his office. Mother hastened her step to match his stride. A steady panic built slowly in his chest. For all his sisters’ dramatic outbursts through the years, Mother tended to demonstrate calm, decorous behavior. When they were at last closeted away in his office, he repeated his earlier question. “What’s happened?”
She held up an ivory sheet of velum. “H-here.”
He took it with numb fingers. The unfamiliar ink seal had been broken. He unfolded the note, and scanned the contents. His heart stopped.
“I told you,” she spat at him. “I w-warned you that someone h-had ensnared her attention.”
And he’d been so consumed by his need for Juliet he’d not heeded Mother’s warning. Nausea roiled in his belly.
“Th-that f-fiend has her. They’ve eloped, Jonathan! Your sister, your sole clearheaded, rational sister would do something as…as reckless,” she said on a shuddery cry. Then glanced back at the closed door. For though she spoke to the loyalty of her servants with great frequency, hint of elopement would be utterly ruinous.
Sinclair,
I would trade you a sister for a sister. If you choose to ignore my request for Juliet, then you’ll find yourself with a new brother-in-law.
Signed simply,
AM
He crumpled the velum in his hands. “When did this arrive?”
“Shortly after you l-left this morning.” Fire snapped in her eyes. “To follow your Miss Marsh,” she spat.
He scrubbed his hand across his eyes. Christ.
“Where has he taken her, Jonathan? He gives no indication as to where she is.” She buried her face into her hands and wept. “Sh-she is r-ruined. Her sisters will have little hope of a respectable match. How could you let this happen?”
“I’ll find him,” he said with steely determination. And when he found the blackguard, he would separate his limbs from his body.
“Oh, you cannot call him out,” his mother said between bitter sobs. “Y-you are the Earl of S-Sinclair. You’ve not done y-your duty to the line and produced an h-heir. Who is this woman that you’d forget yourself and your responsibilities?” she cried. Her eyes went wide as she seemed to realize the possibility of nearby servants overhearing her outburst. She dropped her voice to a near whisper. “I trusted you to find a governess and you brought th-that v-viper into our midst.”
Guilt twisted in his belly like a thousand jagged knives. His mother had implored him to take an interest in helping Patrina make a respectable match but he’d been so consumed with his lust and fascination for Juliet. Yet, Juliet could not be held responsible for her brother’s sins. “She’s no viper.” But Mother was not listening. And this wasn’t the time. His jaw clenched. “How long has she been gone?” It mattered not that the baronet shared Juliet’s blood. If Marshville had touched Patrina, by God he’d kill the bastard dead.
Mother brushed the tears from her cheeks. New drops replaced them. “Prudence came to see me, after she awoke to find her missing. She found a note.”
His heart kicked up a beat “A note.” He took Mother by her shoulders. “Where is this note?”
“I burned it,” she cried softly. “My first thought was to hide any hint of what had happened.”
He took a steadying breath. “What did she say in her letter?“ he said gentling his tone. The countess appeared to be one wrong word away from a trip to Bedlam.
“She said she’d fallen in love and would be off to Gretna Green, and… Where are you going?” she cried as he strode to the door.
“To stop her.” They would be traveling by carriage. They’d left that morning; on horseback he could certainly intercept Patrina before she did anything so foolish as to… His mind screeched to a sudden halt. He could not allow him to consider the revenge Marshville intended to exact upon Patrina.
Mother’s sobbing drew more desperate. “Jonathan, you cannot make this right. Your sister has run off to elope with this gentleman. No young lady can be spared the fallout from such a scandal.”
“Patrina will,” he assured her. “Be certain the girls do not speak further on the matter.” Because the moment anyone discovered the details surrounding Patrina’s disappearance, the more unlikely it was the girls would recover from the scandal. Without a backward glance, Jonathan hurried from the room, shouting for his mount. He collided with Juliet.
She blanched; the hue of her skin a ghastly shade of gray. “My God, Jonathan. I—”
“Not here, Miss Marsh,” he hissed. He took her by the arm and steered her toward the corridor leading to her chambers. “What were you coming here to—?”
Grief twisted her face. “I needed to see you. I’m sorry. I—” her voice broke.
Jonathan released her suddenly. “Not now, Miss Marshville.” He set out in the opposite direction, leaving Juliet standing alone in the hallway.
There was not a moment to spare if he were to save Patrina from Marshville’s machinations.
Juliet paced back and forth upon the thin carpet in her chambers. Shock, horror, and terror numbed her thoughts and dulled her movements. She didn’t know what had compelled her to seek out Jonathan after his mother had demanded his attention on a matter of utmost urgency. Perhaps it was an inherent sense of calamity, but she’d gone below, and heard.
Oh God, had she heard.
She’d always known Albert to be deliberately cruel and mocking, but had erroneously assumed those sentiments were reserved for her, as the sister he could not abide. In light of what he’d done to poor Patrina, Juliet could never make amends for this great wrong.
Through her association, she bore some responsibility for Albert’s actions. If she’d not orchestrated a meeting with Jonathan, if she’d not accepted the role of governess, then Patrin
a would still be the innocent, sought-after sister of an earl.
Instead, she and her sisters would bear the ultimate shame. Juliet tightened her hands into fists and embraced the pain of her nails digging into her palms.
Jonathan would never forgive her and she couldn’t forgive herself.
A knock sounded at Juliet’s door, and she jerked to a halt. “Enter,” she called to Jonathan. She started as the Countess of Sinclair entered the room. “My lady,” Juliet murmured, and dropped an elegant curtsy.
The countess closed the door behind her, quiet, as though afraid the faint click might rouse unwanted interest. She stood there for a long while, her color wan. “I trusted you with my girls,” she said at last.
Juliet’s stomach roiled. “Forgive me,” she whispered, knowing the plea to be futile, but still the only offering she could make this woman.
“I trusted you, Miss Marshville, and you entered my home with not even the truth of your name or connection to my son.”
Odd, how Rosecliff Cottage had once mattered more than anything else. That small property represented the fragile connection between Juliet and Jonathan.
How could she dare tell this grieving mother that her daughter had been ruined for a modest stone cottage with nothing to recommend it but Juliet’s own memories and the rose filled gardens? Juliet sucked in a breath.
“So, I’ll ask you now, Miss Marshville, what are the circumstances surrounding your acquaintance with my son?”
The bottom fell out from Juliet’s stomach, and she sought purchase from the lone chair in her room to keep from falling. The countess crossed over to Juliet and brandished a note in her hand. Juliet lowered her eyes to the ivory velum clutched in the woman’s hands. “You see, my daughter has been deceived by your brother.”
“I’m sorry,” she managed to whisper, all the while knowing how hopelessly insignificant her reasons for seeking out Jonathan would seem to this woman.
“Perhaps you are. But your apologies will not rectify the wrong done by your brother. And now, my son has set out after them, but…” Her voice broke. She cleared her throat. “But it will be futile. Patrina will be ruined and subsequently my other daughters. All because of your presence here.”
Juliet gripped the head of the chair so hard, her nails left crescent indents in the upholstered fabric. Nothing should surprise her where Albert was concerned any longer. He had always possessed a singularly cruel streak that she’d never understood. Since father’s death, however, he’d descended into a state of depravity, as if ruled by drink and gaming. Now Patrina and her sisters would pay the ultimate price, their reputations and good name, for whatever game Albert now played.
“Prudence has told me all about you, Miss Marshville.”
She blinked, pulled back from her musings.
If eyes could burn, she’d be a pile of black ash at the countess’ feet. “You are Jonathan’s lover.”
“No!” Juliet exclaimed. She flushed with humiliated shame. Because, after what had transpired between her and Jonathan in his library, was she anything but the harlot the countess saw her as?
“Do you love my son?” the countess asked bluntly.
Juliet’s gaze skidded off to the far corner of the room. Her silence her only answer.
“If you love my son, then do right by my daughters.”
Juliet’s throat worked spasmodically. “I will do anything for your girls.” Not just because of the love she carried for Jonathan. In the short time she’d come to know them, she’d come to love them like her very own sisters. His mother held the ivory velum over to her. She took it with tremulous fingers, and unfolded the page.
Sinclair,
I would trade you a sister for a sister. If you choose to ignore my request for Juliet, then you’ll find yourself with a new brother-in-law.
Signed simply,
AM
So, this was Albert’s plan. To force her return with Patrina as the pawn in his ruthless chess game.
“My son believes they are for Gretna Green, Miss Marshville,” the countess said, jerking Juliet’s attention to the moment. The older woman nodded at the page in Juliet’s hands. “But I do not think that is what your brother intends. Do you?”
Juliet folded the now heavily creased velum and handed it back to the countess. “No, my lady. I do not.”
“And I gather you know where he is, then?”
There was only one place he could go. The one place that had represented his defeat at Jonathan’s hands, and the desertion of his sister. “I do.” She would find Patrina. She would find her before she came to any greater harm at Albert’s hands. As it was, the innocent young lady had likely suffered the greatest hurt—the betrayal of a broken heart. Even if she did not yet realize it. “Will you provide a carriage, my lady?”
Patrina and Albert could not have left very long ago. They would also be traveling by carriage. Juliet’s firmed her jaw. “I’ll need access to your carriage, my lady.” She looked at this warrior mama prepared to defend her children at all costs, and a niggling of envy pebbled in her belly. Her mother died so long ago, Juliet didn’t know if the wisps of memories she carried of the woman who gave her life were real or imagined on her part. “I’ll also need the assistance of someone you trust.”
“Lord Drake,” the woman replied automatically. “I’ve sent round a missive requesting his immediate presence on a matter requiring extreme delicacy. He will be discreet.”
She swallowed hard, as the horror of her brother’s actions began to truly seep into her numbed mind. “Please, forgive me,” she said brokenly, knowing the words were meaningless to the despairing countess.
The countess’ tense mouth softened ever so slightly. “I know you care for my daughters…and my son,” she added as more of an afterthought. “I believe you’ve acted in their best interests, since you arrived, but your presence here, Miss Marshville, you must know will no longer be welcomed.”
Juliet managed a jerky nod. She may have been hopeful that life held more for her, but she’d never been delusional as to the harsh realities of life.
“If you’ll excuse me. I must see to my daughters. I’ll send a servant to summon you below stairs when the marquess arrives. Until then, I would ask that you stay in your chambers.” The countess’ meaning quite clear—she didn’t want Juliet near her daughters or any other member of the household. The countess might believe Juliet innocent of her brother’s crimes—but she couldn’t be absolutely certain, and as a result, Juliet would be asked to remain behind her doors like a thief trapped in the house, until the watch was summoned. The countess took her leave without another word.
As Juliet stood there, staring at the wood panel of the door, and waiting for her summons from the marquess she wondered at just how happy she’d been these days with Jonathan. A tear squeezed past the corner of her eye and trailed down her cheek.
Jonathan’s life would go on. He would wed. The Lady Beatrice would give him his requisite heir and a spare. His sisters, God willing, would be spared from any hint of scandal. Their life would resume its normal cadence.
And her life? Well, it would continue, empty, alone, and desolate just the way it had before she’d known there was a man like Jonathan.
Chapter 18
For surely the thousandth time since she’d entered the Marquess of Drake’s black, lacquer carriage, Juliet pulled back the curtains and peered out at the passing scenery. Rain streamed from the skies in great, long torrents, as though the heavens cried for poor Patrina. If she were capable of tears, she would be crying right along with the heavens. The black thunderclouds had forced him off his mount and into the carriage. She looked over at Lord Drake. “How much—?”
“The roads have been slowed by the rains, Miss Marshville. It will be a while longer.”
Miss Marshville. So Lord Drake now knew, just as Jonathan’s family the vile blood that coursed through her veins.
“This is not your fault, Miss Marshville.”
&nb
sp; Juliet drew in a slow breath. Beyond the matter of the time, the weather, and their travel plans, they were the first words spoken to her by the young marquess. “It is, though.” Her voice sounded tired to her own ears. She might not have been involved in Albert’s plans, but through her demands of Jonathan she’d ruined the girls as easily as if she’d tied a satin ribbon about Patrina’s innocent head and delivered her to Albert’s duplicitous hands.
The carriage hit a particularly uneven patch in the road and she braced herself to keep from being tossed about like a child’s toy. She could not confide in this gentleman, even though he was a friend to Jonathan, all the circumstances surrounding their families’ connection. Her lips twisted. That is, presuming he didn’t already know all.
“I have known Sin for nearly my whole life. He would not blame you for the sins of your brother.”
He’d not seen the icy rage in Jonathan’s eyes or the stiff tension in his magnificently tall frame when Juliet had come upon him outside his office. “Perhaps,” she said noncommittally. The man who’d questioned her appearance outside his office was not the same affable gentleman with an easy grin. No, he’d never loved her and whatever feelings he might have carried for her were now surely dead. To discourage any further discussion from the marquess, Juliet looked outside. She scrambled closer to the window at the familiar passing scenery. “We’re nearly there,” she breathed.
In the last moments of the journey, Juliet prayed. She prayed she’d been correct in her suspicion and would, in fact, find Albert and Patrina here. She prayed Patrina hadn’t done something as reckless as to toss away not only her heart but also her virtue on Albert. She prayed she would have the strength to not do something violent where her brother was concerned.
The carriage rocked to a slow halt at the end of a muddied road that led up to a very familiar, very dear brick-front cottage. Juliet didn’t await the driver. Instead, she tossed the door open and leapt from the carriage. Her slippers sank into the thick mud, and her crippled leg buckled. Rain streamed from the sky in a heavy torrent. It soaked her hair and ran in rivulets down her cheeks.
Always a Rogue, Forever Her Love (Scandalous Seasons Book 4) Page 19
